Chapter 2

After the interview at Celestial Grand Hotel, Janifer James, the general manager, walked over to me. "You did well in the interview. Keep it up, and you'll go far."

I let out a sigh of relief. "Ms. James, I can start working right away."

She paused for a moment. "Great. Go to HR and get your paperwork done."

The hotel was packed with guests, and there wasn't a single moment to relax.

But I didn't feel tired at all. Since my pay was commission-based, the busier the hotel got, the more money I'd take home when payday came around.

I was thrilled.

Suddenly, I heard someone say, "Mr. White, how do you like your coffee?"

"Mr. Hart, you're so kind. It's a real privilege to have coffee personally made by you," replied the other party.

As I walked past a private room, my hand paused mid-note.

The door was slightly ajar, and inside, Michael was sitting at the head of the table, radiating authority.

Negotiation documents were spread out on the table.

The staff member at the door stepped forward. "Ms. Lane, aren't you going to go in and make some coffee yourself?"

The hotel world was fiercely competitive.

Whenever there were big clients, the team leaders and managers in charge of that area would usually show their faces and bring along the hotel's specialty desserts and drinks.

But this was Michael. If I went in, he'd give me the cold shoulder.

I said, "No need. Make sure you don't mess up."

The door was still slightly ajar.

As I was about to leave, I unintentionally locked eyes with Michael inside the private room.

Our eyes met.

His sharp gaze narrowed ever so slightly.

I felt frozen in place, overwhelmed by his intimidating presence.

The world around me faded away.

Three years of torment overseas had left me with an instinctive urge to run, to get as far away from him as possible.

But I couldn't let myself look unprofessional.

I forced myself to put on that same smile I always wore, even when guests were throwing a fit.

I gave a faint smile and walked away.

Two hours later, a staff member was cleaning up the private room. "Ms. Lane, someone left a pen here."

I was about to say, "Send it to the front office—"

The staff suddenly cut in. "Ms. Lane, I think your name is on it."

I walked in and took the pen.

As I got a closer look at it, a chill ran down my spine.

Was this the handmade pen I once gave Michael for his birthday?

I'd had the word "Emily" engraved on its gold nib.

"Ms. Lane, should I drop this off at the front office for you?" asked the staff member.

My hand shook as I held the pen. "I'll handle it."

*****

Back in my office, I didn't send the pen away.

I couldn't tell if Michael had left it there on purpose or if it really ended up there by accident.

I also couldn't understand why he'd use something I gave him.

To him, anything from me was like it was tainted with some kind of evil, so he'd never go near it.

After wrestling with my thoughts for a while, I put the pen in my drawer.

Honestly, this pen should've ended up like everything else I ever gave him. It would be thrown in the trash, never to be seen again.

Just then, a staff member rushed in. "Ms. Lane, there's a guest here to see you."

I didn't catch on right away. "Who?"

"Mr. Hart. He's back for the pen," replied the staff.

I frowned. "That pen isn't his."

The staff member looked nervous and scratched her ear. "I accidentally mentioned the pen was with you, Ms. Lane. He wants you to go see him right away.

"Mr. Hart seems really not someone you want to cross."